All's Fair in Love, War, and High School Page 12

  On Saturday I took off work so I could help the rest of the decorating committee turn the PHS cafeteria into a ballroom with ambience. We brought in silk trees and set up a fountain in the corner. We intertwined angel hair and ribbons along the railings. I personally tacked up twinkle lights from one end of the room to the other. I even had my dad come in and help me wire them across the ceiling so they'd look like stars.

  At six o'clock Josh picked me up for dinner. He stood in my living room, looking like he'd just stepped off a billboard advertising gorgeous men, and pinned a corsage of pink roses on my dress. Then I fumbled to pin the boutonniere on his lapel without impaling him while my parents took at least a dozen pictures to memorialize the event.

  Finally, we left the photo shoot and went to dinner at Basilos. While we ate, I learned Josh was studying premed at college. Very impressive. He'd actually be able to afford that villa in Spain. He asked me about school, and it's funny because every once in a while I wanted to complain about the teachers or some of the kids that went to PHS, but I didn't. I just couldn't bring myself to. It was like the last two weeks of never insulting anyone had rubbed off on me, and it still felt unnatural to say anything bad about anyone. I was afraid Logan would jump out from somewhere, point a finger at me, and scream, "Aha!"

  Logan. He would laugh if he knew what he had done to me with his silly bet. And he'd laugh if he knew I was sitting here with my prom date thinking of him. I'm sure wherever he and Cassidy were, he wasn't thinking about me.

  Josh took a sip of water from his glass, but then instead of picking up his fork again, he smiled over at me. "You've really changed since last year."

  "Oh?" This was the part where he would tell me he'd been a fool, that he should have dated me instead of Cassidy—that I wasn't second-best.

  "Last year . . ." He shrugged, as though he wasn't sure how to explain. "You were so cynical."

  "Cynical?"

  "You were always criticizing everyone."

  I just stared at him, a terrible lump forming in my stomach.

  He must have thought my staring meant I didn't understand him. "I mean, I'm glad you've changed, because being around critical people always makes me nervous. I figure it will only be a matter of time before they start criticizing me."

  I wanted to tell him, You can stop elaborating now. I get it. You thought I insulted people. You probably thought I couldn't go two weeks without insulting someone.

  Logan had been right about me. Oh, that hurt.

  So I wouldn't have to say anything for a moment, I took another bite of my dinner. I tried to console myself with the resolve that I would change. From now on, I'd be a kinder, gentler Samantha. I hadn't insulted anyone for over two weeks, and I could continue my streak. Then the compliment Josh had paid me would be true. I wanted it to be true.

  I smiled back at Josh. "I wouldn't think you'd have to worry about anyone being critical of you. I mean, what's to criticize?"

  He laughed and said, "You obviously haven't spent a lot of time talking to Elise about me, have you?"

  "Nope."

  He picked up his fork, but then paused. "You guys didn't really get along last year, but I could never figure out why that was."

  The old me would have volunteered several reasons, starting with the fact that I'd heard Elise, on more than one occasion, call me "her royal blondness," but the new me refrained. I just smiled and shrugged like I too thought it was a mystery.

  After dinner we drove to the high school for the Cinderella-like portion of the evening. As we went up the school steps I just knew magic awaited us on the dance floor. Josh would hold me close, look into my eyes, and everything would be perfect.

  As we walked into the lobby, music filled the air and I could smell the soft scent of rose petals all around me. Actually, the prom committee had bought a dozen Springtime Bouquet air fresheners and placed them around the room. But the effect was the same—I breathed in the sweet smell of romance.

  I took Josh's arm as we walked toward the dance floor. I had arrived at the ball.

  It felt strange to dance to rock music in a formal dress. I almost felt like we should waltz or something; but no one else seemed to feel uneasy, and so after a few minutes I didn't either.

  Usually when I dance with a guy, he looks at me, but Josh kept peering around the room. Probably taking a trip down memory lane. The next song came on, and he still kept glancing around every few seconds. Probably appreciating all the work I'd put into the decorations.

  Or maybe he was searching for someone.

  I got my answer when Cassidy and Logan walked into the room. Josh's gaze went to her—and stayed there for several moments.

  True, she did look pretty. She wore a flowing baby-blue dress, and her hair was piled on the top of her head with little pink roses tucked in here and there. Sophisticated and innocent. Even Chelsea would be impressed. Josh was probably only staring at her because she looked so different than she usually did. In a moment his attention would return to me. Certainly.

  In the meantime, I stole a glance at Logan. Standing there in his tux, he looked taller, older, handsome. He took Cassidy's arm, smiled down at her, and led her to the dance floor.

  The song ended, and a slow one followed. Josh gently pulled me into his arms. I had been awaiting this moment, but somehow it didn't make me feel tingly. It just made me feel like we were now in slow-dance position. I kept wondering if he was watching Cassidy over my shoulder.

  I tried to change the subject, even though we hadn't been talking. "I don't suppose the school is much different than it was when you were here last year."

  "No, not unless the twinkle lights are a permanent addition."

  "Hey, don't make fun of my twinkle lights. I stood on a ladder for two hours this morning putting those things up."

  He laughed just a little. "You did a good job with the decorations. You're very dedicated. You'll make a good president."

  "You really think that?"

  "Sure."

  "Elise and Cassidy are campaigning for Amy Stock." I'm not sure why I said this. I suppose I wanted him to know the truth about Cassidy and to stop staring wistfully at her.

  Instead, he immediately turned and looked at her again.

  Instead, he immediately "Really? Why?" "Really? Why?"

  I wanted to say, Because she isn't my friend. Because she's vindictive and mean. Instead, I shrugged. "I guess it's just one of those things."

  My friends would truly be disappointed at how far my scathing commentaries had sunk.

  Josh squeezed my hand lightly, sympathetically. "I'd vote for you if I could."

  "Thanks." I felt a little better.

  At least I felt a little better until the next time he glanced over at Cassidy. And the next time after that. And the time after that.

  By the time we'd danced through a couple more songs, my jaw was clenched so tight I probably looked like the prom version of the nutcracker. Prince Charming, I was sure, never looked at someone else while he was dancing with Cinderella. I thought back to our conversation at the restaurant. "What could anyone criticize you for, Josh?" I'd asked.

  Suddenly the answer to that question was becoming very clear.

  What was it with him? Was Cassidy so bewitching, or was I just so uninteresting? Instead of proving I was no longer second-best, he was positively confirming it. I was torn between wanting to fight for his attention and wanting to kick him in the shins.

  When the next song ended, I said, "I'm a little thirsty. Do you want to go get a drink?"

  "Sure." We walked over to the refreshment table together; but he didn't take my hand, and I didn't take his. We picked up a couple of sodas and some heart-shaped sugar cookies, then walked up to the landing, where rows of tables and chairs waited. The music didn't seem so loud here, but we could still see everybody on the dance floor.

  I sunk down into a chair, and Josh sat down beside me. He took a slow drink of soda. I broke my heart cookie in two. Mrs. Mortenson,
my English teacher, would have found that quite a symbolic thing to do. She had been lecturing us lately about symbolism and was such an expert on the matter that I'm sure she could have found meaningful symbolism in the ingredients list of a box of crackers. I nibbled on one end of the cookie. Also symbolic. Eat your heart out.

  And then I laughed a little. Usually I couldn't keep my mind off guys during English class. Now, here I was out on a date thinking of literary terminology. What a good example of situational irony.

  Josh looked over at me questioningly, but I didn't explain myself. If he wanted me to share my thoughts, then he could at least pay attention to me for two consecutive minutes.

  After a few moments of silence he said, "So how are the sports teams doing this year?"

  "About the same. We win some; we lose some."

  He nodded. "That's good." Then he glanced over at Cassidy again.

  I had to quell the urge to say, "If you want to rest your eyes for a while, I'll take a turn staring at her."

  We finished eating the rest of our cookies in silence; then because he probably couldn't think of any more small talk, he said, "Do you want to dance some more?"

  "Sure."

  We both got up and walked toward the dance floor. Elise, Tyson, Cassidy, and Logan stood together at the edge of the floor talking, and as we walked near them Elise waved at us to come over.

  Josh walked over to her, and I followed him. "Hey," he said. "How are you guys doing?"

  "Wonderful as always," Elise replied.

  I didn't mean to end up standing next to Logan, but somehow it happened. He looked me over with a smirk I couldn't interpret.

  I wanted to talk to him, but not in front of this group. I listened to Elise, Josh, and Tyson talk for a minute. When I was sure no one was watching Logan or me, I glanced over at him. The moment I did, he returned my gaze. I leaned closer to him and whispered, "I won our bet, you know."

  "Congratulations."

  "I'm free next Saturday night."

  "All right. I'll pick you up at six."

  I smiled and turned back to the rest of the group. I should have felt a little bit guilty about arranging one date in the middle of another, but I didn't. I just looked attentively over at everybody and pretended to follow the conversation.

  Logan leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Is that all you have to say?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Still whispering, he said, "I thought you had a bunch of backlogged insults to tell me."

  "Oh, yeah." I thought for a moment and then said, "Rap music is awful, Freud was weird, and Doug Campton needs to grow up."

  "What about me?"

  "You're annoying."

  "That's it? That's your backlog? After two whole weeks?"

  "I'm just not a cynical or critical person." I only blushed slightly as I told him this. "Even Josh said so."

  And this was the point that Josh decided to tune into our conversation.

  "What did I say?" he asked.

  I didn't want to repeat any part of the conversation, so I just pretended I had no idea what he was talking about. I gave him a slightly confused look and repeated, "What did you say?"

  "I said, 'What did I say?' "Josh answered.

  I blinked at him a couple of times. "I give up. What did you say?

  I could tell Josh was weighing whether or not it was worth trying to clarify things when Elise chimed in. "I know what you said. When we were back home, you said you'd save me a dance." She held out her hand to him. "They just started one I like. Let's go."

  Josh turned to me apologetically. "I did promise her that. I'll be back in a bit," and then he walked onto the dance floor with Elise. She called over her shoulder to Tyson, "You can dance with someone else for a minute—why don't you ask Cassidy?"

  Cassidy s eyes widened, but Tyson didn't seem the least bit put out by Elise's request. He just held out his arm to Cassidy and said, "Shall we?"

  Cassidy shot Logan a look to see if he would protest; but when he didn't, she took Tyson's arm, and they too walked to the dance floor.

  For a moment neither Logan nor I said anything, and then he tilted his head at me. "I guess that leaves us. Do you want to dance?"

  I held out my hand in reply. He took it in his, and we walked down to the dance floor. I was holding hands with Logan at the prom. How odd. Surreal was the term Mrs. Morten-son would have used. Surreal and . . . , but then I couldn't think of another word that quite fit. English 315 had failed me.

  Before I could get any ideas I shouldn't have, I reminded myself that Logan didn't really want to be here with me. He wanted to be dancing with Cassidy. Just like Josh.

  Logan led me to the back of the crowd and then took me loosely in his arms. I caught whiffs of his aftershave and could feel his shoulder muscles through his tux. I suddenly found it hard not to get ideas, so I glanced around the room so I didn't have to look at him.

  Elise and Josh were dancing not far away. They moved across the floor, talking in a casual sort of way; and I wondered if he would pay attention to his sister, or whether any moment now his Cassidy-tracking radar would kick in and he'd ignore Elise too.

  Logan put his hand on my back, and we danced slowly in rhythm to the music. I had the urge to lean in close to Logan's neck and breathe in more of his aftershave, but I didn't. Instead, I watched Josh over Logan's shoulder.

  Had I been expecting too much tonight? All I had wanted was a nice romantic evening. I'd looked forward to this night for years. I'd bought a dress, wrangled a last-minute date, decorated the room, and done my hair—all so I could have one night of romance. Instead, I was watching my date watch someone else, and I was having thoughts about a guy whose main goal for the last two weeks was to force me into going out with another guy so he could go out with another girl. It was horrible.

  Logan held me a little away from him so we could talk. "So, are you having a good time tonight?"

  I glanced over at Josh again. "What is it with men any-wayr "I guess that means no."

  I shook my head because I didn't want to explain. Then I shrugged and said, "I've come to the conclusion that any guy under twenty-one is terminally immature."

  He winced. "Harsh. Exactly what did Josh do?"

  "It's not what he did. It's just that . . . " I tilted my head up at Logan. "It's prom night—girls look forward to it. You're a guy. Tell me, why is it guys can't be romantic?"

  "Ahh," Logan nodded knowingly. "I see. Josh didn't lavish you with enough compliments."

  I almost said, He hasn't paid attention to me long enough to come up with a compliment, but instead I said, "I don't know why I asked you. You couldn't say something romantic if your life depended on it."

  He grinned at me. "Sure I could."

  "Prove it."

  He glanced up for a moment, as though he were consulting the stars—or in this case the twinkle lights—then stared into my eyes. "You look beautiful."

  "See what I mean? That isn't romantic. My mother told me the exact same thing tonight. If a mother could say it, then it doesn't count as being romantic."

  "All right, I'll be more specific." Logan leaned closer to me, holding me tighter, and spoke softly into my ear. "Samantha, you look so beautiful tonight that when I came in and saw you across the room, I was glad I'd lost our bet."

  I have to admit, my heart stopped beating for several seconds.

  "Okay," I said slowly. "That was good, but it was probably just a fluke."

  He shook his head. "What is it with girls and romance anyway?"

  "If you need to ask," I said breathlessly, "you wouldn't understand."

  He held me a little looser. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his brows came together. "What I want to know is this: What's wrong with being a normal sweatshirt-wearing type of guy? Girls always want some mysterious stranger who'll sweep them off their feet."

  "Mysterious and stranger are optional," I said, "but sweeping is mandatory."

  "You see, that's just my point.
You don't want a guy with personality or substance; you just want someone who dances well and has dreamy eyes."

  "You dance well." I cocked my head at him. "You have dreamy eyes too—and I could even say there are several things I find mysterious about you, like, for example, why you enjoy working on car remains. So maybe you shouldn't be so quick to categorize yourself as one of the guys with substance. . . ."

  It was then I noticed Tyson and Cassidy approach Elise and Josh. Tyson cut in, taking Elise back as his partner and leaving Josh to dance with Cassidy.

  Cassidy stood on the dance floor for a moment, unmoving and blushing bright pink, but Josh seemed at ease. He smiled down at her. Then he took one of her hands in his, pulled her into slow-dance position, and they began swaying back and forth.

  For once Josh paid complete attention to his partner.

  Logan noticed me staring and looked over to where Josh and Cassidy were dancing.

  "They switched partners," I said. "I wonder if Elise and Josh planned that all along."

  Logan grinned as though it didn't matter to him. "I wouldn't put it past them."

  "And you don't mind?"

  He shrugged. "How can I mind if Josh dances with my date? After all, I'm dancing with his."

  He had a point, especially considering the fact that he'd just been whispering romantic nothings to me. Still, I stared over to where Josh stood holding Cassidy in his arms.

  Logan said, "It bothers you though, doesn't it?"

  I didn't say anything. I knew he was asking in a roundabout way how much I liked Josh, and I didn't know what to reply.

  I pulled my gaze away from Josh and Cassidy. "It just seems so sneaky."

  He lifted one eyebrow and nodded slowly. "And you've never done anything sneaky?"

  "Oh, no you don't. You're not turning this dance into another one of your bash-Samantha sessions. I believe we were talking about romance and specifically your lack of it."

  "I thought you said I had dreamy eyes and was mysterious."

  "I was considering your potential. You weren't finished proving yourself to me."

  He laughed and pulled me closer. Into my ear he said, "Tu es très belle quand tu marches dans les vestibules, quand tu em-piles des livres, et quand tu pleures."